


Sparring

by yeaka



Series: Random Roleswaps [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prince Prompto trains with his shield.





	Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m doing a series of unrelated FFXV roleswap AUs. Feel free to suggest a pair, gen or slash.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He falls on his ass with all the grace of a cat in water, and worse, he stays there, dumbfounded and numb. His sword hits the ground beside him, its clattering echoing through the enormous space of the training room. Noctis stands above him, normally no taller than Prompto, but now towering up like some unstoppable force of legend. His sword disappears from his hands when Prompto’s vanishes from the tile, dismissed by Prompto’s tenuous connection to the Crystal. Noctis’ handsome face just looks sort of... miffed.

Prompto’s _so_ embarrassed. He’s sure his entire face is red, as well it should be—he left himself wide-open for that last blow, and he had more than enough time to block it. But he didn’t. He was busy watching a single bead of sweat roll down Noctis’ strong jaw, dipping along the jut of his collarbone, and disappearing under his black shirt. Noctis is breathing hard, but not nearly as hard as Prompto. Prompto’s been struggling. He’s been this way for their last several sessions. Prompto’s sure Noctis is wholly disappointed in him.

He can’t help it. His tiny teenage crush has blossomed into full on early adult ardour, and now he can barely look at Noctis without his heart beating twice as fast. Add to that the stripped-down attire of their training session, the glowing flush of a workout, and the passionate way that Noctis surges for him, and Prompto’s a total goner. He doesn’t stand a chance when Noctis is hot and sweaty. Even now, he’s too distracted to really hear what Noctis is saying, and he completely misses the first half, just picking up the latter: “...Maybe you should stick to guns.”

If Prompto could sink right through the floor, he would. He instantly argues, “But we couldn’t train that way—I couldn’t shoot you!”

Noctis snorts like he could dodge any incoming bullet, and maybe he could, but Prompto wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger. Not aiming at Noctis. “There’re other types of training we can set up...”

“But you’re my shield,” Prompto counters, like that matters, because to him, it _does_. Noctis lifts one dark brow, and Prompto has to try and justify himself. “I mean... I’ll probably get more out of it if I’m learning directly from you, y’know? And I gotta learn close-range sometime... what if someone, like, tries to assassinate me?”

“I’ll destroy them,” Noctis answers easily. It makes Prompto’s stomach clench. He loves when Noctis gets protective of him. But Prompto’s a _prince_ , and he should be able to protect himself. Maybe Noctis sees that, because he sighs and suggests, “Alright, let’s think about it later. I’m getting tired anyway; how about we hit the showers?”

Prompto somehow manages to hold back a gulp. The only thing worse than seeing Noctis in training is Noctis in a shower. He doesn’t think his heart could take that. And his ego definitely couldn’t take Noctis seeing him get an inevitable erection. It’s hard enough to hide when they’re in training clothes. Which is too bad. Because beyond all that, he’d _love_ to finally share an after-training shower with Noctis. 

Instead, he saves himself having to deliberately drag his feet in the locker room and jumps right to an excuse: “I, uh, can’t... I promised I’d hang out with Gladio later.”

Noctis pauses in the act of bending down to offer a hand. Prompto takes it anyway, semi-gloved fingers brushing along Noctis’ wristband, and Noctis pulls him up to his feet. Then they’re one on one, looking right at each other. Prompto offers a smile that he hopes isn’t awkward. Noctis returns it and elbow his side. 

“Hey,” Noctis starts, voice teasing, “don’t get me wrong, Your Highness. I’m glad you found a normal friend and all, but heads up, people outside the Citadel don’t usually show up to hang out with their shirts glued to them with sweat. Even when they’re as cute as you.” Noctis even winks; Prompto’s temperature skyrockets. 

He’s pretty sure Noctis just called him _cute_. Which is completely the pot calling the kettle black. But Noctis said it so casually, and sometimes with Noctis, it’s hard to tell...

“On the other hand,” Noctis muses, lifting a hand to his hip. “He does look like he works out a lot. Maybe he’ll understand...” After a short pause, Noctis dons a lazy grin and adds, “Although, just because he’s ripped doesn’t mean he’s got Crownsguard skills, so don’t go trying to replace me.”

“I wouldn’t—!” Prompto splutters, because the idea’s just _absurd_ —Gladiolus is nice, a great best friend and all, but Noctis has been his shield for just about ever. The only person he’s known longer is Ignis, and Ignis has been telling him for months to just admit his feelings already. 

Even Gladiolus can tell Prompto’s smitten. And he says the same thing—to just get it out. And Ignis thinks Noctis might actually _like him back_ , and Ignis knows everything, but that’s probably wishful thinking, and it’s not worth risking their whole relationship.

In Prompto’s thought-addled silence, Noctis turns for the locker room. As soon as he starts walking, Prompto hurries to keep pace with him. Every little detail of the day runs through Prompto’s mind: Noctis getting picked up by Ignis, sliding into the Regalia’s backseat so close that he and Prompto’s legs touched, the two of them changing in the locker room beforehand, chatting conversationally, Prompto trying desperately not to look at Noctis but noticing Noctis’ eyes on him every time he did dare look over, and finally, Noctis calling him _cute_.

They’ve just reached the door when Prompto blurts out, “Maybe I can be a little late.” Noctis glances at him. Prompto’s definitely bright red. “To hang out, I mean. I’ll join you in the shower.”

Noctis grins and tells him, “Cool. I’ll tell Iggy you’re finally picking up some good hygiene habits.” Prompto internally groans. 

But he follows Noctis to their lockers, anxiously wondering how long it’ll take him to work up the nerve to kiss his perfect shield.


End file.
